no longer mourn for me when i am dead
than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
give warning to the world that i am fled
from this vile world with vilest worms to dwell:
nay, if you read this line, remember not
the hand that writ it, for i love you so,
that i in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
if thinking on me then should make you woe.
o! if, i say, you look upon this verse,
when i perhaps compounded am with clay,
do not so much as my poor name rehearse;
but let your love even with my life decay;
lest the wise world should look into your moan,
and mock you with me after i am gone.